


Whichever Comes First

by friendlyneighborhoodsecretary



Series: I'm Never Prompt with Prompts [15]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Gen, Irondad, Lots of Unspoken Conversations, May Parker and Tony Stark Can and Should Be Friends, Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Sick Peter Parker, platonic coparenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:15:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22642450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/friendlyneighborhoodsecretary/pseuds/friendlyneighborhoodsecretary
Summary: Peter is sick, Tony is hovering, and May is concerned. AKA a late-night flu medication run gives May and Tony the chance to quietly hash out a few things regarding the very new and very strange co-parenting relationship they've fallen into.
Relationships: May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker, May Parker (Spider-Man) & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: I'm Never Prompt with Prompts [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1558726
Comments: 32
Kudos: 231





	Whichever Comes First

**Author's Note:**

> From the prompt: “I left for exactly two minutes…and this escalated how?”

“I left for exactly two minutes…and this escalated how?” May keeps her voice soft as she pads back into the living room from the kitchen. When she’d left a few moments earlier to retrieve a fresh glass of juice for the patient, Tony and Peter had been propped up on the couch: Peter nearly dozing from the high-powered flu meds Tony had delivered and Tony watching over him with sharp eyes and an itchy trigger-finger resting over his medical team’s speed dial. Now, Peter has listed sideways to sprawl across Tony’s lap, his head resting against the arm of the couch and his arms locked around one of Tony’s as if it’s a particularly comforting teddy bear. A spike of shock freezes May in the doorway for a second or two, but it abates quickly as she moves closer, replaced with a bittersweet something she can’t quite pin down.

Tony barely looks up from the boy who’s burrowed into him when she enters, and May finds herself almost glad he doesn’t. The look on his face is too soft, too firmly caught in the space between a cautious, dubious sort of shock that Peter—even in sleep—finds him worthy of enough trust to sag into like an oversized pillow and a warm, encompassing sort of fondness that May just might be persuaded to call love if it didn’t blink out under the calm mask she was so much more familiar with. It’s a face she hasn’t seen on him before now; she appreciates having the few extra seconds to size it up.

“Hell if I know,” Tony murmurs back. He gives the arm that Peter has wrapped himself around a rather performative tug, but doesn’t give even a split-second of resistance when Peter groans in his sleep and burrows closer. “Kid’s got better heat-seeking equipment than most of my suits.”

“Always has.” May settles on the arm of the couch just above Peter to smooth careful fingers over his clammy forehead, through sweaty curls, and back down to brush against flushed cheeks. The snuggling has always been their thing, ever since he was tiny enough to clamber up into bed in the cozy space between her and Ben to warm cold toes on the most frigid January nights. Or when he was small and sick and heartbroken over having been quarantined from school to let his cold run its course rather than making it to his math test. He went to Ben for comfort just as often when he was home, of course, but more often than not, it was May stroking his hair until he went to sleep or holding him together while he cried. In the last few years, it’s _only_ been May. And now it isn’t. She isn’t quite sure how to take that. Or how concerned to be about it. “He gets attached fast that way.”

Tony looks up quickly at that, sharp eyes squinting at her in the muted blue glow of the TV screen they’d left on a few hours earlier at Peter’s request. It’s a two-edged statement, and he knows it as well as she does, so May doesn’t falter under his scrutiny. She just waits.

They haven’t talked much since the blow-up following Peter’s accidental unmasking. Not for more than the occasional strategy session about keeping Peter to his curfew or the quick text conversations to get May’s okay for their little jaunts upstate, anyway. This seems as good a time as any to air some of the worries that keep her up in the wee hours of the night while she waits for the sound of Peter’s bedroom window creaking open and the muffled thump of his feet hitting safe ground.

“Yeah, that’s a little hard to miss.” Tony looks away before she does, his attention drifting thoughtfully back to the boy snoring into his sleeve. Probably drooling into it, too, given the way Peter snores when he’s congested. May ticks off a point in Tony’s favor since he doesn’t show any sign of pulling away or slithering out of Peter’s grip despite the snot and the spit.

She’s never been entirely sure of him, not when he appeared in her living room in a dazzling display of flash and glamor and wealth, not when he sat quietly on the edge of his desk in an immaculate office while she rattled the windows and also probably (hopefully—she’s not going to be sorry about that, he _earned_ it) his eardrums with her…thoughts…about his role in keeping Peter’s double life hidden from her, and not in the four strange, chaotic months since, despite all the time he’s let Peter spend with him and all the little kindnesses—the new backpacks she hasn’t had to buy, the many, many pizza dinners and ice cream runs she know he funds for Peter, the science expos and conferences he whisks him off to—that Tony’s heaped on them. Little kindnesses can sometimes be too cheap a price for trust, in her opinion. Especially from a billionaire. But the way the billionaire in question looks at her boy now, all warmth and wonder and tender care, does give her pause in her suspicion. A smidgen of hope, even, that perhaps sharing the care and keeping of May’s kid may not be as risky an endeavor as she’s feared.

“He’s a light sleeper—you’ll have to be careful when you go.” That’s what still worries her about the whole thing. It’s hard to fake the kind of care that prompts anyone to venture all the way to Queens from Manhattan in the dead of night just to deliver a few pills, to sit close and endure the sniffles and sneezes and the rest of the grossness that comes with sick children, to soothe May’s worry over the fact that not a single thing in her medicine cabinet had done her kid any good—that’s all well and good. She _knows_ he cares in his own way. But how long that care will last under the distractions that must come with being arguably one of the most important men in the world…that’s the question. How many lives has he surely flitted in and out of before now? And how hard will it hit Peter when something else—something more pressing, more interesting, more important—swoops in to take back Tony Stark’s attention? That, more than anything else, is what holds her back from being entirely grateful for the new presence in Peter’s life. Because sooner or later, the odds are that Tony Stark will go and not come back.

“Duly noted, Ms. Parker,” Tony says, his eyes going sharp with understanding, but his voice staying surprisingly soft. Soft and almost hoarse with the weight of what went unsaid. It was strange, seeing him without his bravado, but he seemed content to let it go for at least this half-second of sincerity. He gave her a slow nod as his free hand drifted up to smooth a few errant curls off Peter’s face. “Duly noted.”

He clears his throat as he looks away slowly, almost reluctantly. For a split second, May sees more behind his eyes than she’d bargained for, and she wonders—however briefly—if she and Peter aren’t the only ones afraid of being abandoned again. Tony’s nose wrinkles in a sniff that seems more an effort to regain his composure than it is any sort of biological response, and that flicker of vulnerability is gone as swiftly as it had come.

“But, for the record, I’m in no hurry to go anywhere until the kid finds a better pillow. Or until you kick me out, whichever comes first.” There’s an offer scrawled between the lines there. An out, quietly offered before any of them find themselves too deeply attached. May can’t say she doesn’t appreciate it. She doubts there are many people Tony Stark would _let_ kick him out of somewhere he wants to be. But that isn’t a card she wants to play. She will, if it ever seems that Peter comes to more harm than good under Tony’s mentorship. But somehow, she doubts she’ll have to. And that’s a greater relief than she’s experienced in a very long time.

“Whichever comes first, then.” May nods back. She settles against the edge of the couch to join Tony in watching Peter sleep in the wavering glow of the TV. Her fingers sweep through Peter’s curls again, coming to rest just a few inches above Tony’s. It’s a strange arrangement, there’s still no doubt about that: a spider, an aunt, and a billionaire. But strange as it still may be…now May can say she’s sure.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, lovelies! If you have prompts or comments or concerns or just want to say hi, feel free to drop me a line here or on Tumblr! <3


End file.
